


Loss of Sensation

by xpiester333x



Category: One Piece
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-03-08
Updated: 2015-03-08
Packaged: 2018-03-17 00:10:16
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,090
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3507821
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/xpiester333x/pseuds/xpiester333x
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>He didn’t long for his old arms, no, but he did long for his sense of touch.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Loss of Sensation

**Author's Note:**

> This is just a quick Franky-centric fic to celebrate his birthday. I miss it every year, but NOT THIS YEAR! Also I'm really not used to writing Franky so I hope this is okay.

The ship was quiet save for the creaking of wood as it rocked gently in the waves, and the slight squeak of metal grating against metal as he twisted a screw the last couple of inches into his arm. When he was done, he set the screwdriver aside and wiggled the fingers of his arm, testing his joints for any signs of disrepair. His fingers hissed a little as the hydraulics worked inside of them, but their movements were smooth and fluid, no problems there. Franky worked his joints one by one, rolling and twisting his wrist, swinging his elbow, and winding his shoulder, until he was sure that his arm was in one hundred percent super condition again.

He sighed and tipped his head to the side, giving his chin a gentle nudge with one hand, allowing the joints in his neck to pop. He repeated the action on the other side, and then sat back in his chair, releasing a steady stream of breath as he did so.

It was late. The silence of the ship told him the others had gone to bet a long time ago, and aside from the person one watch, he was probably the only one awake. The routine maintenance on his arms had taken a little longer than usual due to their recent string of fights. His joints had taken a little damage, and the electrical responses were a fraction of a second delayed. He was used to mechanical errors happening even in the middle of battle; he’d been part machine too long to be surprised when a sensor died right at exactly the wrong time. It was super inconvenient, but he was used to compensating until he had a free moment to make repairs. He just wasn’t used to having to go so long before he could make those repairs.

 He splayed both hands out on the work desk before him. The wood beneath his fingers was solid and flat, but the actual sensation of the surface was lost on him. All of the science and modern inventions in the world could only go so far. His arms were equipped with motion detectors and temperature sensors. He had wind gauges that could pick up even the minutest breeze. He had pressure sensors that could send warning signals almost like pain did to the brain, but not the same. All of it gave him a sense of touch almost equal to anyone else’s.

Almost, but not quite.

It wasn’t that Franky really longed for his old arms. Those arms hadn’t been strong enough to stop a sea train or to hold on to what was most important to him. He didn’t need arms like that. The arms he had now were stronger, vastly improved versions of his old arms, and they had proven themselves super capable of fighting and defending what he needed to protect. These arms were better than his old arms in every way.

He didn’t long for his old arms, no, but he did long for his sense of touch.

It wasn’t so bad most of the time. It was convenient not to feel pain when he was fighting, his arms made a nice shield in that regard. He had enough sensors and gauges to get a basic notion of how the things around him felt. The wood of the Sunny was solid and smooth; the air around a summer island was hot and heavy. He didn’t need nerves endings to tell him the most basic things, and so most of the time he didn’t think much about the lack of real sensation in his hands and arms.

There were other things, however, that made him long for that sensation back. Like the times Robin’s spare hands gave him an extra lift or when Nami’s fingers brushed against his when she turned the helm over to his care. When Sanji cooked a meal so fine it might have been high class dining, Franky had only his tongue to tell him the textures. He wanted to feel how soft Chopper’s fur was, and the way Usopp’s muscles tensed under his hand when Franky was giving him a congratulatory pat on the back. He wanted to have the same feel for the strings of his guitar that Brook’s boney fingers could pick out on his violin, and he wanted to be able to move with the same deftness and speed that Zoro could – a feat only achievable through a heightened senses. He wanted to feel Luffy’s straw hat, just one time.

He wiggled his fingers again. They tapped across the wood of the desk, his mind registering each solid bump. Almost, but not quite, real.

“Franky,” a cool, low alto voice interrupted.

“Robin!” he greeted, masking his feelings behind a wide grin. “Super good to see you!”

She chuckled, a sweet sound. He was grateful he could still hear it the way he was meant to. She took another few steps closer, sliding and hand onto his shoulder to support herself as she leaned closer to speak to him, keeping her voice low as to not disturb the others. The walls of the Sunny were too thin sometimes.

“It’s your turn for watch, though if you’re in need of rest, I’m sure Sanji would be happy to cover for you.”

“I can handle it,” he said. “I super got this.” He turned his head just enough to look at her over his shoulder, and gave her a thumbs up.

She smiled at him, a small, warm smile that never failed to make his heart flutter. That was a real sensation— there was no mechanism on earth that could replicate it— and the reality of his situation clicked.

He didn’t have the sensation in his hands to be able to hold his nakama the way he wanted to. He would never know the exact texture of their skin or their most prized possessions, but the affection with which he held each of them in his heart was something he would never lose. It was a human sensation, one that he would cherish until that heart stopped beating.

“I’ll leave you do it then,” Robin said, removing her hand from his shoulder and heading back up towards the deck. She’d retire for the night now that her watch duty was over.

Franky wiggled his fingers and rolled his joints one more time, listening to the gently hiss of hydraulics and the slide of metal over metal. His mechanical hands were in _super_ condition.

 


End file.
